Читать книгу Blossom Street - Debbie Macomber - Страница 33

CAROL GIRARD

Carol was the first to show up for knitting class on Friday afternoon. She arrived early in order to look through the pattern book for another project.

“I thought you were knitting your brother a pullover,” Lydia said as Carol leafed through the section of the binder that held men’s sweater patterns.

“I was, but I’m too upset with him to knit him anything.” Carol hadn’t spoken to Rick in over a week. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but she’d half expected him to keep in touch with her after his confession. This time, his charm wasn’t going to be enough to get him out of the mess he’d created. There were no easy answers.

The bell above the door chimed and when Carol glanced up, she nearly did a double-take. Alix walked in—wearing jeans and a T-shirt. It was the first time Carol had seen her without the constant black leather jacket and either black pants or a ridiculously short skirt. Her hair looked … less punk. Carol opened her mouth to comment but quickly closed it again. Alix didn’t like having attention directed at her, even though she blatantly strove to be different. If that wasn’t a contradiction in terms, Carol didn’t know what was.

“Hi,” Alix said, sauntering up to the table. Her manner seemed self-conscious, and she glared at Lydia and Carol as if defying them to comment on her changed appearance. Then she sat down in one of the chairs and took her knitting out of the plastic video-store bag.

“Hi,” they both responded.

“How’s the pregnancy going?” Alix’s voice was matter-of-fact; she seemed to consider this a perfectly normal question.

Carol saw that Lydia looked over at them warily. No one else had dared ask Carol about her condition. “So far, so good,” she said. “I’m still peeing blue.”

“What?” Alix raised her head.

“The test that tells me I’m registering as positive for a pregnancy,” Carol explained. With the fertilized embryo implanted in her womb, it wasn’t getting pregnant that was difficult, it was staying pregnant. Twice now she’d lost the baby before the third week. Holding on to the pregnancy this long meant there was hope, but no part of the process was certain. The first three months were the riskiest in any pregnancy. In her online support group, Carol had recently heard from one friend who’d been pregnant for two and a half months only to miscarry. It had been heartbreaking, and every member had felt Susan’s loss deeply.

The door opened again and Jacqueline came into the shop, bracelets jangling. She wore a tailored pantsuit Carol considered far too formal for the occasion and carried not only her Gucci purse but a leather tote in which she kept her knitting. The woman did like to make an entrance. It was as if she expected everyone to notice she’d arrived and react accordingly. Actually Carol didn’t mind. She’d grown to like all the women in her knitting group.

She and Jacqueline were onto new projects now. The only one who hadn’t finished the baby blanket was Alix, and Carol suspected it was because she couldn’t afford to buy more yarn.

“I’m starting a new sweater,” Carol said, still leafing through patterns.

“What about the other one?” She knew Alix had especially liked the gray cashmere.

“I’m tired of it.” She glanced at Lydia and shared a conspiratorial smile with her. “Do you want the yarn?”

Alix’s eyes lit up. “You don’t want it?”

“Not really.”

“What about the pattern? Do you need that?”

“Not particularly.”

“Great!” Alix shoved her knitting into the plastic bag and nearly rubbed her hands in glee. “I’m almost done with the blanket, and I’d like to knit that sweater for a … friend.”

“Who?” Leave it to Jacqueline to ask.

“A friend, like I said,” Alix muttered defiantly.

“Don’t get high and mighty with me,” Jacqueline snapped. “I was just interested, that’s all.”

Jacqueline expressing interest in Alix? A few weeks ago that would’ve been unimaginable. The change in attitude between them was dramatic and had begun with the near-mugging in the alley. They still sniped at each other but that seemed more out of habit than conviction.

“I didn’t know you had a male friend,” Lydia said, smiling at Alix.

“I don’t,” Alix said quickly, too quickly to be convincing.

“Then who’s the sweater for?”

“Like I said, a friend.”

“Sure,” Jacqueline murmured, grinning. She winked at Alix, whose cheeks immediately blossomed a fetching shade of pink.

“If you must know, it’s a guy I met at the video store,” Alix said irritably. Still, Carol had the feeling that Alix wanted to tell them….

“Does he like you?” Jacqueline asked.

Alix shrugged. “He did when we were in sixth grade—but, well, he’s a preacher and I don’t exactly see the two of us sailing off into the sunset, if you catch my drift.”

“Why not?” Lydia asked. “Preachers have lives, too, you know.”

Alix lowered her head and concentrated on her knitting. “He’s a good kisser,” she said in a soft voice.

Predictably, that piqued the group’s interest, and a lively discussion broke out.

“Reese was quite a kisser in his day,” Jacqueline volunteered. “I remember the first time he kissed me. Every cell in my body sprang to life.”

Carol smiled at the dreamy look on Jacqueline’s face. “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven the first time Doug kissed me,” she recalled. She noticed that Lydia was doing busy work around the shop, straightening patterns that were already straight. “What about you, Lydia?” Carol asked.

Lydia jerked around, almost as if she resented being included in the conversation. Then she sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more than a … kiss. It was always pleasant, but nothing earth-shattering happened afterward.”

“It will one day,” Jacqueline assured her.

“Don’t you think you’re placing a lot of importance on a simple kiss?” Lydia asked. “Good grief, we’ve all been kissed, and while it’s very nice most of the time, it’s not that big a deal.”

Jacqueline motioned toward Alix. “Was it a big deal for you when this preacher kissed you?”

Carol could tell Alix was uncomfortable with the question. The girl tossed her head in a nonchalant movement. “Yeah, I guess, but I don’t think about it, you know?” She looked around, and her expression said she’d thought of little else.

For a moment the room was silent as each woman concentrated on her individual task. Carol wasn’t sure what Jacqueline was working on these days. She’d started knitting scarves using an ultra-expensive yarn and then moved on to felting hats and purses. It was hard to keep up with Jacqueline’s current projects because she leaped from one to another and seemed to have several in progress at a time. Carol suspected she’d become one of Lydia’s best customers.

“Didn’t I see you come out of The Pour House last Friday?” Alix suddenly asked Lydia. “With that UPS driver.”

“Me?” Lydia’s cheeks flamed and she raised her hand to her chest. “Yes … I was meeting Brad Goetz for a drink.”

Alix let out a low whistle of approval. “He’s hot stuff.”

Lydia seemed to find something that needed attention in her display of knitting books. “We’re going to dinner later in the week.”

“Do I sense a romance developing?” Jacqueline asked in a friendly tone.

“That would be nice,” Carol said. She was amused at how shy Lydia was about men. Brad was the first one she’d mentioned. And this young preacher of Alix’s … Carol felt touched that the girl had confided in them.

“Would you like to come up to the condo to get the yarn one day next week?” Carol asked impulsively.

Alix nodded. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. Or I can bring it to class, if you’d prefer.”

“I can stop by your place.”

Carol had the feeling the girl didn’t get many such invitations. “Why don’t you come for lunch on Monday? Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Despite her indifferent-sounding response, Alix couldn’t hide her eagerness to accept.

Carol looked around at the others with an affectionate smile. There was Alix, of course, whose defensiveness had diminished so noticeably. And Jacqueline, who no longer tried to impress them with her social connections. Lydia had become less reserved, and her warmth and wit were more in evidence every week.

Odd how these things went, Carol mused as she continued to leaf through the pattern book. A group of mismatched personalities, four women with nothing in common, had come together and over the course of a few months, they’d become real friends.